Vader's Surrender
by SkippingSteppingStones
Summary: Luke is at Ben Kenobi's house completing his lightsaber when Princess Leia comms with surprising news. Vader has turned himself in to the Alliance, and demands to be allowed to speak to him.
1. Chapter 1

Active Headcanons: Trans Skywalker twins, Autistic Force-sensitives

Active AUs: Only the events of the story

Trigger Warnings: mentions of child abuse, 

Luke's comm buzzed, and he sighed happily, setting aside his freshly-completed lightsaber. Probably Leia. Checking on him for the thousandth time. He shook his head at the repeated calls, but had to admit to himself that it was a relief to be distracted from the doubts pushing to escape his head.

He'd requested this time uninterrupted though, he thought, lifting the comm and checking its time display. He'd wanted to put his lightsaber together in peace. It was a lengthy and delicate process, and he'd decided that if anything interrupted him, he'd start again for good measure.

Not that it mattered, now that he'd completed it, but…

"Luke."

It was a harsher greeting than she usually chose, but he smiled nonetheless. "Hi, Leia, I-,"

"We have Vader."

"You _what?"_

Luke scrambled for his lightsaber again, taking a mental inventory of the things he'd have to grab from Ben's home before he left. He wasn't ready to face Vader again, he knew. He'd barely escaped their _last_ encounter alive, and if Vader was already with Leia, he'd certainly have the advantage.

"He's demanding to speak to you," Leia said, and Luke heard her voice strain with buried emotion, and looked back at her to see that she was struggling to look reassuring. "But he doesn't pose a threat."

"What happened?" Luke asked, letting himself sink fully back to the floor, huddling closer to the comm, pleading with his friend to give him good news.

"He just handed himself over." She looked apologetic, overworked, and exhausted, and Luke felt a little stab of guilt that he had come to the privacy of Ben's home and left her to grapple with the Empire on her own. "He knew where we _were_ , Luke. He just showed up in the hanger in a stolen ship. I thought we were all _dead."_

"Leia," Luke offered weakly, reaching out uselessly for the holoprojector, as if he could really grip her shoulder. Accompanying the useless stretch, he reached out in the Force, dropping Tatooine away behind him as he reached for her familiar presence, and brushed against it.

Feeling her lean into him, allowing him to lift some weight from her shoulders, he sighed. This had been one of the only personal benefits to learning to access the Force. For the most part, it had only done him harm, but as he felt her mirror his breath, he caressed her presence, glad of the closeness it had allowed them.

The warmth of the desert around him was familiar, and having her close was _right,_ and he needed to take just a moment to prepare for seeing his father again.

She sighed, and he felt her jerk away from his comfort. "He wants to comm you."

He groaned in return, looking at the holo of his friend in distress. He wasn't interested in trading her familiar face for the Sith's mask, but he nodded tiredly.

"Luke, I know you don't want to speak to him. I know what he did to you."

She was trying to empathize for him, and he managed a little smile. She always tried to ensure he didn't feel that she thought his pain was somehow less than hers, even though it was.

"What he did to your family," she added, and he felt his heart ache.

"Leia," he began, before the words died in his throat, and he cast his gaze aside.

"He's a monster," she agreed softly, and now it was her presence that reached for his. "I know. But you're strong enough for this. You'd make your father proud."

She was smiling, and for a second, the ache in his heart threatened to tear him away from her, to throw up a new wall between their souls. He'd hidden it this long, and he wanted to continue to ignore the truth, and let her believe that Anakin had been a good man who had died for the good of the galaxy.

"I wouldn't." He hesitated, feeling his throat close, "I mean… I don't."

He barely whispered it, his gaze falling to his lap.

"What?" Her voice was concerned, but already she was leaning away from him. As if she could sense the truth, and was already repulsed by it.

"He wouldn't be proud of me," Luke said, struggling to keep his voice level. "I know, because he's not. Because he's Vader."

He'd imagined telling her a thousand times. Ever since he'd found out the truth, he had rehearsed this conversation in his mind in every quiet moment. He'd tried to decide when it would be least painful for her, but his conclusion had been that it could only be once Vader was dead, and even then, only if _he_ had been the one to kill him.

He'd tried not to think of his own comfort in that scenario, committing himself to it. If he'd paused to think about it, he would have said that this was less painful. His father was alive, was in Alliance custody! It was an unlikely opportunity.

But it hurt more than he would have expected.

It would have been easier, he suspected, if they had not _just_ been so intimately linked, and their emotions had not been quick to flow back and forth.

As it was, her shock pervaded his senses, blocking out Ben's hut, and his freshly completed lightsaber, and even the thought of seeing his father again.

"It's got to be why he's asking to see me," he continued, hoping that rationalizing it would ease the pain.

"I thought…" Leia whispered, pressing her hand to her forehead, and turning away, "Because you're a _Jedi..._ "

"It's probably partially that, too," he hurried to reassure. It was easier to manage this if he told himself that he was unrelated to the problem and this was only a strange quirk of their enemy, not the bond he'd wished for since birth. "He knows more about me than most other agents, and maybe he thinks I'll go easy on him."

"Will you?"

The look wasn't exactly accusatory. It was only fearful, and anxious, and everything he didn't associate her with.

"I'll try not to," he promised. "Leia, I… It's still me. I'm still Luke. But that doesn't mean I won't; it might mean the opposite. You _know_ how much he's meant to me." He pushed his hand through his hair, casting his gaze to the floor before capturing a fistful of his bangs. "I only… I only found out at Bespin."

"I'm sorry."

His stomach seemed to turn over, and he forced himself to release his hair, his hand slipping back to his lap. "I'm sorry too. I know what he's done to all of us, I haven't forgotten."

"He nearly _killed_ you at Bespin."

His arm throbbed suddenly, and he swallowed roughly, nodding. He'd have liked to forget that, going into this. He didn't want anything to set Vader on his guard, which meant that _he_ would need to be as calm as possible.

"I don't want to ask you to do anything you're not ready for," she said finally.

Luke laughed roughly, "It doesn't look like I've got that much of a choice, if he's insisting!"

Her frown deepened, and he struggled to regain his composure, knowing that his frantic laughter had unnerved her. "I'll be alright, Leia."

She sighed, bending her head until he could only see her crown, her braids starting to slip from their stylings as the day wore on.

"I love you," she croaked.

He smiled sadly, reaching out to her again in an offer of comfort. It was hard for her to think about Vader, after all he had done, and he wished she hadn't been Vader's first point of contact. "I love you, too, Lei."

She gave a ragged chuckle, and Luke watched as she swatted blindly at the comm, missing her first attempt, before succeeding. For a moment, her image was replaced with static, before it vanished altogether.

"Luke."

The voice scratched its way into his head, and burrowed into his bones, infecting him with an icy cold. He imagined he could feel it eating at the healing stump of his arm, and threatening to shake loose the prosthetic. Perhaps it would eat away the very fabric of his being, and unmake him.

He didn't want to answer. He wanted to sit there, perfectly still, and wait for Vader to speak again, and somehow fix it. Take back what he had done to him, even take back that slim chance of having a parent.

He took a breath, and steeled himself. This wasn't the time to fall apart.

"Vader."

Maybe it would have been right to greet him as 'father', a part of Luke whispered. They could have avoided some explaining, and cut to the chase. Perhaps there would even have been some flicker of emotional response to the word.

Vader didn't answer, and Luke ached, struggling to breathe normally. He must have displeased his father, he thought, and now his whole body was alight, from his arm to the thin scars his uncle had left on his back. He needed a distraction, something else to say, anything to break the silence.

"Why can't I see you?" he asked. There was a quality to his voice of a man close to tears, almost choking, but he did what he could to balance it.

Slowly, a single, metal fingertip moved into the view of the receiver. Its motion spoke of someone weakened, the intake almost out of their reach.

"Surely you didn't believe I was able to move," Vader said, a hint of tired amusement in his tone.

The finger waved slightly for a moment, before sinking back out of the camera's range.

"Your friends are not stupid, child." Vader said, before Luke sensed a flicker of alarm from him, enough to set him reaching for his weapon again. "Are they aware?"

Luke let out an unsteady breath, letting his saber slip back to the floor. "Leia is."

"The princess," Vader answered. Again, silence stretched, and Luke began to fidget, wishing he could feel safe in the knowledge that he was systems away from his father. But instead, he was uncertain about Vader's containment, and his attention was so fully focused on their conversation that he could hardly see the dark basement he sat in.

It had seemed comfortable, cool, and secluded when he had come down, but now he felt as if Ben's remote home was only the perfect place to be ambushed.

"Can you see me?" he asked finally.

"Hardly."

Luke sighed, burying his face in his hands. "What did you need to talk to me for?"

"I've given myself up," the Sith said, before drawing another long, rattling breath. "I have no interest in serving the Emperor, as long as you live." He paused for a time. "I wanted to ensure you knew."

Luke gaped. "So, what now? You're a prisoner, and you just had to call _me?"_

"My son?" Vader asked. A swell of exhaustion swept over Luke, as if the Sith shared the same room. It was unnerving how powerful Vader's presence was, even bound a galaxy away. "Perhaps it is absurd. But your friends will benefit from the information I have, and if you wish…" The words trailed off, and Luke didn't dare interrupt. "I'm the reason you can never know her, but I would not leave you with no knowledge of your mother."

His father may as well have taken a blade to his chest.

Luke took a ragged breath and stared wildly at the empty hologram. He'd forgotten about his mother in the rush and terror of discovering his father. She had always been a mystery to him, his aunt and uncle knowing nigh-on nothing about her. She had been an offworlder, rich enough to own an enormous starship with which she had returned his father to Tatooine.

One day, she had descended into the Lars's lives, and the next, had vanished again, taking Anakin with her. They hadn't heard from her again, until her baby had been brought back, an orphan.

"She does not deserve to be overshadowed by whatever Kenobi told you of me."

"What was her name?" Luke asked, his voice trembling, before he scrambled to collect the things sitting within reach of himself, and continued. "I'm coming back. To the Alliance. I'm done out here, I'll come back when Lando is in position."

"Padmé," Vader answered, and as he began to inhale, Luke hurriedly deactivated the comm.

He didn't want to hear anything else his father had to say until they could have a full conversation. For now, he only wanted his mother's name to mull over on the flight back.


	2. Chapter 2

Trigger Warnings: Vader accidentally startles Luke into outing himself.

Headcanons: I'm sort of loosely drawing from Fialleril's slave lore, but I'm not following anything to the letter.

Additionally, if anyone is interested in discussing Star Wars headcanons and having me tell them about random story ideas I don't plan on writing, please shoot me a PM. It's been a while since I was active, and I've fallen out of touch with all my older friends, one way or another.

Luke pushed open his cockpit, and clambered out, accidentally delivering a sound kick to the dashboard, and hurrying to slip down off the side, unwilling to wait for a ladder.

Leia had come to meet him in the hanger, and he ran to hug her, grateful for her familiar weight in his arms.

She was alright. Vader was here, but he still hadn't made any attempts to destroy them.

Behind him, Artoo screamed reproachfully, and Luke released his friend, looking back up at the droid.

"I just wanted to say hello," he said, pulling Leia against his side, and reaching out in the Force. For a second, he allowed himself to sense the base, the many unpanicked and still living beings, unaware of the Sith in their midst. Then he drew his attention back to the hanger, and carefully shimmied his droid out of his snug port, lowering him to the ground.

The moment Artoo's wheels touched the ground, they spun furiously, and Luke released him, and opened his eyes just in time to see the droid barrel into his legs, knocking him back slightly.

"Woah!" He laughed, catching Artoo's dome in his hand. "Be nice."

Artoo let out a deluge of binary fury, and bumped into him again, the beeps becoming louder.

"He's worried about you," Leia said, leaning forwards to greet the droid as well.

"I know. Sorry for not talking more on the flight, buddy. Guess I'm a little worried, too."

Artoo gave a slow, sad beep, and nudged up against Luke again.

"Why don't you go find Threepio?" Luke asked him, running his fingertips over his dome. "You don't know when you'll have another opportunity."

Artoo gave another reproachful blat, before turning, and heading off to find his friend.

"I guess there's no real point to putting it off, huh," Luke sighed, looking down at Leia.

She watched Artoo's escape for another moment, before sighing, and leaning back against him. "I suppose not…"

She didn't seem interested in releasing him, though, and he felt their connection strengthen, seeming to draw him closer to her. Allowing the childlike urge for a moment, he closed his eyes, resting his face in her hair. It felt good to hold her, especially now that their only four-year friendship was one of the longest relationships he had left. They had different skills and interests, and each had a selection of friends that they moved with, but when it came down to the wire, he knew she was his closest friend. He'd told her about Vader first, and she'd told him about her family on Alderaan. They had no real secrets from each other, except where they were mandated to.

"Thanks for checking up on me on Tatooine," he said.

"You were different after Bespin," she answered, and he felt her clench a fist in the fabric of his tunic. "I guess I know why, now."

"There's no point being angry about it," he sighed, tightening his arms again. He was safe, for now. As long as she held onto him, and he to her and they stood in the hanger together, there was no harm that could come to them.

"Well," she said, finally pulling back, and looking up at him fiercely, "I am angry." She punched his shoulder, and he laughed, releasing her to rub at it.

"Do you think you're ready to see him?" she asked, her gaze softening.

He paused for a second, before nodding. "He's going to tell me about my mother," he answered softly. "He's been answering your questions?"

"Yes, ever since he spoke with you." She sighed, reaching up to kiss his cheek, before turning away to lead him to his father's cell.

He followed, slipping his hand back into hers for support. It felt like she filled a piece of him he had never noticed was missing, and he wanted to be complete in preparation.

Familiar halls passed seemingly out of time, strangers and friends alike faceless in his anxious determination. He would speak to Vader, and he would find out at least something about the mother he had lost. Vader had apparently come back for him, and if he was being forthcoming about the Empire's secrets…

He didn't know where that thought terminated. He felt it might have been somewhere comfortable and reassuring, somewhere almost familiar.

He wanted to fall into the thought, and the galaxy it offered him, but they were entering the prison now, and he was starting to feel the pulsing of his father's presence brushing up against his own.

"There's a set of cuffs that stop him from accessing the Force," Leia told him. She released his hand, and he realized sharply that the cell they stood outside must have been the one that contained his father.

Leia was digging in a small locker, and finally pulled out a set of cuffs, which she passed to him.

He accepted them cautiously, trying to avoid touching them more than he could help.

"Why not just leave them on?"

"Because we all know he's only here because he's chosen to be," Leia sighed, rolling her eyes. "He gets irritable when he can't sense you."

Luke shivered slightly at the thought. It was strange to him that Vader would focus on that, and he had thought that he was aware when his father reached for him.

"Who else knows?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"The three of us, and Mon," Leia said. "I needed to make sure there was someone who could vouch that I knew. She agrees that it's for the best if we keep it quiet."

"Thank you," Luke sighed. He wasn't sure if he was thanking Leia, or Mon, but he was glad that he would have a little longer with his friends before they knew the truth.

He'd never thought of himself as someone who kept secrets from those he cared about. Others had kept secrets his whole life, secrets that had cast who he was into doubt, secrets that had led him to where he stood now.

Holding manacles to chain a slave, and standing nervously before the door that led to his father.

"Comm me when you're finished," Leia said, dragging his attention from the door. "We can get dinner together."

He met her eyes, and managed a smile, "Alright. I'll see you later."

She returned his smile encouragingly, before palming the activation for the door, and allowing him to step into the cell.

Swallowing, Luke took a small, tentative step into the room. A tall slab rose in front of the door, blocking most of his view of the room, and he stood breathless behind it as the door closed after him. He felt as if Vader would move it aside, and usher him in with some grand gesture.

It was a surprise when Vader's voice broke the silence.

"Do you at least intend to come where I can see you?"

He felt like he was six again, and his uncle had caught him climbing on the vaporators. He had too much _limb_ , and didn't know where to put his feet, and he struggled to stumble around to see his father.

"Coming!"

He sounded like someone was standing on his chest, he thought in frustration. He sort of felt it too, a mix of shame and fear crushing his chest and blocking his throat.

"Thank you," Vader said slowly, and Luke dared to look up at the Sith's mask.

He was locked to the slab, wrists pinned as far from his body as possible, his feet suspended off the ground, and also locked apart. Luke glanced down at the binders Leia had given him, uncertain of how they would function, given Vader's position.

"Go on," Vader said.

Luke looked up sharply, dropping the cuffs at his feet.

"I'm not going to chain you!"

 _Too defensive_ , he thought, too late to salvage the sentence. _He's chained up and at your mercy and you STILL can't keep it together_.

He kicked them aside. "Leia gave them to me, and I… I dunno…" he trailed off, intensely wishing that he could sink through the floor. "I know you were a slave," he whispered, his mind leaping to all the cruelty he had seen on Tatooine, and imagining hearing his father shouting for mercy for a torturous moment. He blocked it out, his gaze falling to the dropped cuffs. "And you're already bound."

"Mm," Vader answered. Luke could feel his father's gaze eating into him, and he looked up to Vader's right, trying to figure out where the comlink had been balanced when they had spoken.

"You had questions about your mother," Vader reminded him.

Luke looked up at his father's mask, his mind whirring. "Yes! I want to know more about Mom. About Padmé."

The name felt foreign on his lips. He hadn't dared to even whisper it to himself on his flight home. His mother's name was something fragile and perfect, something he was terrified would smudge and become worthless, as devoid of comfort as everything else he had dreamed of. Like his dreams of space, of escaping his uncle, of his father…

His mother could still exist safely in his dreams, for now.

Provided he didn't ask the wrong questions.

Provided she had not been suited to Vader.

"She would have loved you," Vader said sharply. A part of Luke feared it might have been a lie, but the quickness wasn't dismissal, it was sadness. "And I apologize."

Luke's gaze had slipped to the floor, and he didn't look back up now. Instead, he slowly lowered himself to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees.

He was afraid to speak, afraid to say anything Vader might correct, or add information he didn't want.

He imagined his mother, perhaps with himself seated on her hip, facing his father. He had been destined for confrontation with Vader, but had it happened before? Long before he could remember, before he was taken to Tatooine?

He could feel the scene as if it was occurring around him. Was it some memory, buried deep inside him? A horror he had really witnessed?

"She was so sure it was a boy," Vader said, a sick wheeze following the words.

Laughter, Luke knew, intuitively.

He nodded, slowly bowing his head, waiting for his father to continue.

"I…" Vader sounded uncertain now, and Luke itched with an uncomfortable feeling that his father was looking on him in pity.

He swallowed, tried to straighten, and was feeling almost prepared to look up at the Sith when Vader continued.

"I thought you were a girl, for certain."

Luke winced.

Immediately, his father gave a prickle of concern, and Luke groaned, covering his head with his arms. This had not… no, this hadn't been a threat in this meeting! He'd come to learn about his _mother_ and oh…

"Oh _Force_." Vader said, completing Luke's frantic train of thought. "I didn't mean." There was a loud groaning of metal, and Luke looked up sharply to see Vader visibly straining at his restraints, as if to climb down from his prison and comfort him. As he met his son's eyes, though, he fell limp again, and just repeated, "Oh, Force."

Seeing where thin cracks had begun to appear in the slab, Luke let out a sporadic laugh, covering his mouth and nose.

"I apologize, little one," Vader said, and his tone ached with embarrassment and apology, only further fueling Luke's laughter.

"It's my fault," Luke managed, flattening his nose with his palm in an effort to stop his laughter. "You weren't even _talking_ about that, and I…"

"Well," Vader said, with the air of someone trying to salvage a conversation, "I was glad to discover she was right."

Luke looked up at the sincerity in his father's words. "Th… thank you."

He sensed Vader's smile clearly, and returned it without hesitation.

"She deserved to sense more about you than I. She'd be furious she never got to know you."

"Where was she from?" Luke asked, and suddenly, his mind roared with questions that he hadn't realized he had, a moment before. "Did she name me, then? Or did you plan names together? How did you meet?"

Again, he felt Vader's smile. It was a bit like when he'd been very small, and his grandfather had still been alive, but had been going a bit blind. When Luke had gone up to him, he would take the little boy's cheeks in his hands, and run his thumbs up over his temples and eyes, before cupping his chin, and leaning in close to see him.

Something about the way his father looked at him held the same fondness. It was another thing he had not expected.

"We met in my master's shop," Vader said, and Luke felt him crush a shiver at the title. "She was a queen from Naboo, and I failed to realize how out of my league she was. We never had the opportunity to discuss names, though I suppose it doesn't matter now."

Luke looked up, offended, before realizing what his father meant.

"I didn't want to lose the name you chose." He smiled, picking at his pant leg. "I asked Ben about it, and he told me she'd picked two."

"It means light, in her language." Vader told him, and he felt a gentle caress against his mind. "It's appropriate."

He looked up, smiling slightly. He hadn't expected his father to be amicable. He had been prepared for simple statement of facts, most likely. Information he could have used to look into his mother on his own.

"I thought it meant freedom," he said, finally managing to really meet his father's gaze. He paused, trying to think of a safe way to word his source. "On Tatooine."

His father made no sound, but there was a soft brush against him, tinged with amusement, and he smiled. "Good fortune, I suppose. As I said, we were never able to discuss names."

"Maybe she researched it," Luke said, folding his arms comfortably, and resting them on his knees. He liked the image of the faceless woman digging through the holonet, or datachips studying her husband's language. "I never really… thought about her, before," he admitted. "Aunt Beru didn't know anything about her, really. They said I took after you, so I guess I just…" he trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty. It had always been a simple fact for him that his father was the parent he was closer to, but suddenly it felt unfair. Vader himself had declared his mother to have been the parent Luke should have cared more for, and he worried that he'd be angry.

"It seems something of a curse now, I suppose."

Luke laughed, "I guess. It was pretty hard to deal with."

"That your father was a monster?" Vader asked derisively. The words stung, but Luke did his best not to flinch at them, knowing Vader was directing them at himself. "A murderer and absent because of his own actions, and not his death?"

Luke didn't answer. He didn't have any comfort for Vader. He wanted to be happy and safe with his father, but the fact was that it was blind hope, at the moment. He didn't have any real proof of his father's intentions, and he'd been told often enough that he was stupid enough to believe any line fed to keep him from really believing his own conviction.

It was just hope.

"Little one…"

Luke looked up, uncertainly.

"I want to be better to you than this," Vader said. "I went mad with the loss of your mother. I thought there was no one left in the galaxy worthy of love. But you're her son, and remarkable in your own right."

Luke felt his mouth turn upwards slightly, before his lip wobbled suddenly at the gravity of the situation, and he hurried to still it. He scrambled to his feet, desperate to leave before tears overwhelmed him.

"I promised Leia," he took an unsteady gasp for breath, "I'd meet her for lunch."

He knew by the ache in his heart that his father had sensed his real reasons for wanting to leave, but he wasn't interested in admitting them. He headed past Vader's slab again, and let himself back out of the cell.

The moment the door closed after him, he sank down to the floor.

The prison was otherwise fairly deserted. They didn't keep many prisoners, and any they did have would be kept far from the Sith. Guards were similarly kept away from his destructive power.

Struggling to push out Vader's touch on his heart, the concerned probe of his father's mind, Luke pushed a hand into his hair, and took an unsteady breath.

He fumbled for his comlink, struggling to hold back tears. But as soon as Leia's voice filled the corridor, the tears slipped loose.


	3. Chapter 3

Luke brushed his hair out of his face, and exhaled.

He was back, standing in front of the door to his father's cell, after a few days of Leia's intense dedication to keeping him away from the man.

He'd had to come back.

His tears after their last meeting hadn't been fear or pain, as Leia had interpreted them. Or, he supposed, they had been. But it was a pain he wanted to repeat, wanted to work through. He wanted to know his father, as hard as that was.

He took a deep breath, and palmed the activation, stepping inside, and allowing his presence to flow past the barriers he had built around his mind, and brush Vader's.

Immediately, he sensed a little swell of happiness, and smiled, stepping around the slab, and looking up at his father.

"You've returned," Vader said, labouring to tilt his helmet down enough to see his son.

"I wasn't gonna leave for good," Luke answered, reaching up to his father's cuff.

Immediately, Vader prickled with panic. "What are you doing?"

"Letting you down," Luke said. He released the first cuff, and Vader swung off balance to another spike of fear. Reminded of the cuffs on his ankles, Luke hurriedly knelt to unclasp them.

"Why?" Vader demanded, and Luke looked up to see him scrabbling desperately to grab hold of his other arm with the one Luke had freed.

"Cause I want to talk to you," Luke said, reflecting that he should have started with the lower cuffs. Vader seemed to be having trouble steadying himself. "Without you being chained."

"I disagree with your decision," Vader said unsteadily, managing to grasp his own shoulder, and stiffening as if it would stabilize him. "But at the very least, couldn't you have lowered me first?"

"I can't."

Luke freed Vader's other foot, and the Sith finally swung down to the floor with a crash, and Luke sheepishly reached up to free his other hand, explaining, "I don't know how."

"You don't know how?" Vader asked incredulously.

Luke blushed. "I'm not exactly supposed to be doing this."

Vader groaned, and Luke watched him uncertainly, before the Sith was grasping his shoulder tightly. "Then what's moved you to do so?"

Luke met his gaze. "I just wanted to be on equal footing. I mean," he hurried to amend, "I have my lightsaber, and there'd be a whole base for you to fight through. I'm not stupid. It's just… We've never had this opportunity before."

Vader looked at him appraisingly for a long moment, before nodding slightly. "At least put the cuffs on."

Luke looked down at where he'd dropped them, surprised. "You want that?"

Vader sighed, and Luke watched in concern as the cyborg began, seemingly with great discomfort, to lower himself to the floor.

"I am a dangerous man, Luke. You know that."

Luke hesitated another moment, until Vader was safely seated, before hurrying over to the cuffs and collecting them. Kneeling before his father, he watched in trepidation as the Sith held out his wrists.

"It feels wrong," he muttered, but he attached the cuffs regardless, and felt Vader's presence cut out.

"I do terrible things with freedom," Vader told him, and Luke slowly sank to his knees before the man, watching him intensely.

"I do not wish to harm you."

Luke averted his gaze, slowly seating himself across from Vader.

For a time, they were silent, and Luke reached out in the Force, cautiously nudging his father's presence. Vader wouldn't be able to respond, he knew. He was no more Force sensitive than Han at the moment, but Luke wondered if, like with Han, he'd be able to sense the older man's emotions.

And there they were. Vader's shields were still remarkable, but they were weakened by his inability to access the Force. Luke could see affection through the cracks, tarnished with fear and sadness.

It hurt.

Seeing the pain the very sight of him brought to Vader hurt, so Luke stopped looking.

He cast his gaze aside, to fall to the blank floor away from the Sith, his mind caught in a spiral of hurt. His father had come back for him, finally. But he wasn't the father he'd dreamed about, and it certainly wasn't the _reunion_ he'd wanted.

In his dreams, his father had always swept down on silver wings to greet him with delight and a promise of freedom in the stars. They had clung to each other, and shared their joy in mechanics and flight, and his father had admired his work, and smiled at him in the corner of his eye.

Instead, his father had crashed into his life with the fervour and violence of a wounded mynock, disoriented, out of place, and desperate.

He had brought with him a host of problems: injury, pain, and threat to the stability Luke had found without him.

But Luke still wanted him. He wondered if his father sensed that, if it was the same pain he saw in Vader. Even if Vader was a strange and feral creature, he had come to Luke.

"I tried to look into Mom," Luke said finally, squeezing his arms against himself. "I couldn't find _anything_."

Vader rasped sadly.

"In my grief, I erased all the information I could find."

Luke drew his legs up against his chest. He was surprised how easy it was not to look at Vader. When he had come to the cell, he had anticipated seeing his father properly, but now he'd remembered his fear of the man again.

"Your friends will still have information," Vader offered him, and Luke jumped as a heavy leather glove landed on his arm. He looked down at it as Vader squeezed him gently, his thumb rubbing cautiously at him. "Mothma in particular. She and your mother were friends."

Luke looked up sharply, suddenly angry. "Did she know?"

Vader looked up from where his gaze, too, had rested on his hand. "About your parentage?"

"Yeah," Luke said fiercely, suddenly pulling his arm away. "Did she not trust me enough to know, either?"

"You were a secret," Vader said, and even with his Force abilities stripped from him, Luke still felt the sadness radiate from his father.

"Because Jedi weren't supposed to love," he spat out.

He'd ignored the implications of that fact for nearly three years now.

It had seemed insignificant when he'd learned it, just another rule he didn't like, which it seemed his father would have backed him up on. Another way his father had been remarkable, more than human, more than a war hero or a Jedi.

"Your mother's career would have suffered," Vader said, and Luke had a sickly feeling his father was trying to _comfort_ him with that thought. "She was a senator by then, and with the war, she didn't have time-,"

"For me?!" Luke demanded, pushing himself away from his father. "Why'd you even _have_ a child if you weren't ready to take _care_ of them! I grew up idolizing you, are you telling me you _never_ deserved it?"

"You expected me to be more," Vader agreed, his voice softer than Luke could have imagined it.

"I thought-," Luke choked, "I thought you decided I was worth it."

"We did, Luke."

Vader's hands were on Luke's arms again, and Luke found himself hurting too much to protest.

"After a fashion."

Vader was clumsily pulling him in, and Luke fell to his free hand and knees, crawling blindly to his side.

"You were not intentional," Vader murmured, and Luke fell against him.

The world was a blur of tears and pain, and for a moment, he could forget the full identity of the man he was leaned against, and just take comfort in his father's arm around him.

"But you were not a mistake," he promised, drawing his other arm around Luke, stroking his hair as his head landed on his shoulder. "We were both so excited, little one… Your mother didn't have time for the scandal, but we planned to end the war, to leave the republic, and raise you in peace."

Part of Luke wanted to ask what had gone wrong; where the plan had failed and he had been lost, and the galaxy had devolved still further into war. But he tossed the thought aside, sheltering in the still of his father's arms, the cool of a shoulder pad against his forehead.

"You'll tell me more about her?"

"Yes," Vader promised.

Luke nodded, reaching up, and interlocking his fingers with his father's.

"I… I want to know more about you, too."

"I don't deserve your interest," Vader dismissed without a moment's hesitation. His hand cupped Luke's head, stroking his hair soothingly and keeping him still.

Luke looked up, shaking off his father's hand to meet his gaze. "You have it, though. You always have, and I really _need_ you now." His voice was pleading, and he gripped his father's hand tighter in his own, feeling the leather creak under the prosthetic. "You know so much about the Jedi that's gone now. I always wanted to know you, but if that's not enough…"

Vader hesitated, and Luke saw uncertainty and surprise flicker through the gaps in his shields. The pain lapped at Vader again, and Luke ached, but refused to look away again. His father's affection was a personal desire, something he'd lived long enough without to believe he could do it again. But the Jedi Order had been so completely wiped from the galaxy that his best attempts at recovering information had proved to be nearly useless. He'd cursed Ben repeatedly for not taking his exile as an opportunity to record the society he'd served, but if Vader… if _Anakin_ would just come back…

He didn't want to face that gargantuan task alone.

"Rest," Vader said.

"No!" Luke protested, pulling away as his father attempted to draw him back, "Father! This is _important_ , I need your help!"

"Luke!"

Luke flinched at the rise in his father's voice, and Vader hunched away from him, seeming to try to make himself small. The effort was rendered useless by the life support suit, but Luke relaxed nonetheless.

It suddenly struck him as absurd that they had seated themselves on the floor. Here they were, heirs to the two most powerful orders the galaxy had seen in living memory, debating the future of the galaxy, and he was curled in a ball while Vader sat haphazardly in a pool of excess cape.

"I am not the man they raised," Vader said, uncertainly offering his arm to Luke to rest under again.

"But you remember it, don't you?" Luke asked. He grasped his father's outstretched hand, gripping it to his chest, pleading.

"I do," Vader said, and suddenly emotion lapped at the chinks in his armour again. Strong and fierce, it pushed at the weakened barriers, and Luke watched it in fascination. It looked… felt, like trauma. "I remember everything."

"They hurt you," Luke whispered. He hadn't really considered that. The Jedi's effect on his own life hadn't been exactly comforting, but this was a _war_ , and their people had been obliterated. But the trauma was unmistakeable now, and Luke moved forwards, allowing his father to hold onto him.

"There was a reason we planned to leave," Vader said. The moment Luke had leaned back into his arms, he folded them tightly around him, as if grounding himself. "I never wanted them to take _you_."

Luke trembled at the vehemence in his father's voice.

"We can make it different," he promised, cautiously gripping the Sith in return. "It doesn't have to be like it was before. Whatever they did, we can avoid it, I swear."

"Oh, Force," Vader said, and Luke began to choke as his chest was compressed once more. "I wished them to never take you, and look what I sentenced you to, instead!"

"Father." Luke tried to speak calmly, slowly trying to push himself away from the Sith. "It happened, we can't go back and change that."

Vader trembled, releasing his son, and Luke hesitated, crouching beside him, and watching the Sith's movement.

He was surprised how difficult motion seemed to be for him, and how slowly he moved now. It was a weakness he certainly hadn't noticed at Bespin, and it was odd to see now.

"We're both here now, okay?" he asked. "I'm going to try to get you released. It… it kind of sounds stupid, but I'm looking forwards to fighting side by side."

"I thought my death would be what was asked of me," Vader said, still not looking at Luke.

Luke forced a smile, "But it's not! Don't you want to live?"

He could sense that Vader didn't, particularly.

"If you came back to see me, don't you want to take as much time as we can get?"

Vader finally turned back to him, and for the first time, the pain was almost washed out of him, replaced with only a wash of love. "Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

Luke clattered down the steps towards the prison, tightly gripping a datapad, and eagerly looking forwards to seeing his father again. It was getting better, he thought. Seeing Vader again after Bespin had been terrifying, and there were still nightmares and flashbacks, triggers hiding in his everyday life that would take him back to that gantry, trembling and holding on for dear life. But now, there was his father, too.

Vader's presence was familiar now, brushing against Luke gently, never demanding his attention. Vader was more patient than Luke had imagined, willing to wait for his son's convenience for visits, and allowing him space that he wouldn't have expected if he'd gone with Vader. Luke had given him a comlink, as a means to communicate properly with him, without touching minds, which Vader seemed to have connected to their brief discussion on Bespin.

His father had asked for the datapad. He'd wanted a very specific model, which Luke hadn't been able to find before heading down, but he hoped the one he had would be acceptable.

He leapt down the last five steps, without using the Force, or aiming for any kind of grace, and landed loudly on the floor, trotting onwards.

He felt good.

It was strange. He hadn't realized exactly how hard it had gotten, until suddenly it was easing up again. Thinking back, he realized his trouble getting out of bed, achieving anything, hadn't been just physical injury. And they hadn't started at Bespin, either. How far back did it go? He wasn't sure.

He shook off the thought. Right now, he felt good, and that was all that mattered.

He reached out, brushing Vader's presence, and letting the Sith sense his approach. His father gave him a gentle prod in return, and Luke smiled at the affection in the touch, opening the door to his father's cell, and heading to the control panel, lowering his father's rack to the ground, before unlocking the binders.

"I'm glad you've learned to do that," Vader said dryly, and Luke turned back to him with a smile.

"I couldn't get the 'pad you wanted," he said, holding out the one he'd dug from under his bed. It wasn't anything special, and Luke had been eager enough to come down that he hadn't even had time to look into why his father might've wanted his specific choice.

Vader radiated an aura of uncertainty, slowly accepting the device. "I suppose it will do."

"It was the best I could do," Luke said apologetically, turning back to the controls for the slab, and laying it flat, just below waist height. "Leia's been trying to keep me busy enough that I don't come down here."

Vader made a noncommittal sound, seating himself on the edge of the slab, and regarding the datapad. "Am I permitted full access?"

Luke nodded, boosting himself up next to his father, and looking over at the 'pad, typing in the temporary password he'd given it. "I think it might have some old games or something on it. It's nothing important, though. You can keep it."

Vader nodded slowly, skimming the datapad briefly, before opening a blank document, and withdrawing a simple stylus from his belt. For a second, he paused, and Luke watched in burning curiosity. Then, there was a strange sensation, as if Vader had suddenly become devoid of the pain that hung around him like fog, and Luke scrambled for a second for purchase on what remained of the man he knew.

He found a simple, silent trace of a man long forgotten. Anakin?

He reached out, brushing his presence against him, trying to evoke a reaction, and the presence gently shook him off. Undiscouraged, Luke nudged him again, trying to understand who his father was under the pain and trauma that had overtaken him.

"Patience," Vader murmured allowed, and Luke opened his eyes as his father gave him a gentle push, before returning to the datapad.

He was drawing.

Immediately, Luke discarded his pestering, falling still, and watching as his father returned to his drawing, roughing in the head and shoulders of a woman. Again, there was an exhale of darkness, a lightening and reduction of Vader's being, before he began to work in details.

"Mom?" Luke asked quietly, uncertain about interrupting his father's work.

"I told you she was beautiful," Vader answered, and Luke leaned against his shoulder, watching him work.

It was strange not to sense _Vader_. Leaning against his father, Luke almost felt as if there was no one there at all, only a void where his father's soul usually was.

"Are you alright?" he asked, watching as Vader carefully began brushing in her eyelashes.

"She helped me forget," Vader answered, carefully adjusting her nose, and pausing for a moment to look at his work. He erased her chin, and for a second, frustration fleshed out the trace of father that remained, before he was drawing again, and it faded once more.

Recognizing his father's need for silence, Luke closed his mouth, and just watched. Slowly, Vader drew her eyes, then drew them again. Her mouth took a few attempts, Vader apparently uncertain of how to draw her looking regal, before he gave her a small smile, adjusting her eyes again to match. Finally, he began drawing her hair, sketching in an elaborate headpiece, before erasing it, and drawing curls falling around her shoulders, slightly wild, as if she had just been running.

As he drew the last few curls, Vader's hand slowed, until he just sat, looking at the drawing.

Then he shook himself, passing the datapad back to Luke. "I can draw you more useful images as well. Plans. Maps of bases."

Luke didn't answer immediately, instead gazing into his mother's eyes. "No," he said, passing the pad back, "I love it. Draw her again?"

Again, a faint touch of emotion coloured the flicker that was Vader's presence. Happiness, this time, and Luke dared to reach into the emotion at last, adding his own happiness. He wanted to share this with his father. Talking had been nice, and the gentle brush of his presence was reassuring, but he knew that if he could just bear to join his presence with his father's-

To his surprise, Vader accepted the touch immediately. Without hesitation, the strange emptiness swirled around him, drawing him close, and for a moment, he saw the drawing his father was beginning _move_.

For just a heartbeat, he saw his mother, sitting in a field of flowers, laughing. Her hair was only partially down, and in the cell, his father's hand began to add detail to her hairpiece. She wore a yellow dress, an organza cape fluttering in the breeze, and Luke watched as his father drew the same image, caring as much to see the image his father would create as the memory he could see so clearly.

And then something changed. And the image faltered, and vanished, and his father's hand was still on the 'pad. And then shaking.

The rattling breaths had stopped.

The soft void was gone.

And he turned in panic, and found that the lights on his father's chest had flickered out.

"Father?" he asked, shaken.

Vader offered no answer.

"Father?!" He leaned back, before reaching out, and _shaking_ Vader, only to have the Sith limp in his hands, unmoving, unbreathing. _No!_ He threw himself into the Force, into his father's being again, not to connect, but to dig, to dig for any sign of life. His heart had stopped. His breathing remained silent. He desperately threw himself into his father's heart, taking it in his hands, and sculpting it, forcing it to beat.

And his breath, he had to keep that going. He tried to split his concentration, to monitor both. He ached at the difficulty of it, as if he was being torn in two. He couldn't keep it up, but he couldn't let go.

 _Leia,_ he thought desperately, and for a moment, he nearly hoped she might have sensed him, before he screwed up the last ounce of strength he had, and reached for his comm. He couldn't count on her sensing him. He couldn't leave anything to chance.

He thought Vader was still alive, for now.

"Leia," he croaked, and in the lapse in his concentration, he missed a beat of Vader's heart, and felt him falter again. "Leia, there's something wrong with his life support." He spoke as quickly as he could, desperate to return his full attention to keeping his father's heart pumping. "You have to get medics. Please!"

"Luke?" she asked. But she sounded a galaxy away, and Luke didn't dare split his concentration any longer.

He let the comm fall from his hand, grasping his father's arm with both hands, letting the galaxy fall away from him so he could just focus on his father. Just keep him alive.

"It's alright," he said, the words coming easier now that they were directed to the focus of his attention. He didn't know if Vader could hear him or not, didn't know how close he'd come to death, but he wanted to reassure him. "I'm here, Father. I'm here. I can do this."

His father's beating heart and shallow breaths echoed in his ears. He felt that he stood in his father's chest, trying to achieve two monumental tasks as ruined organs disagreed with their metal backups, and Vader's body tried to die.

It was oddly peaceful. Nothing moved without Luke's specific command, and he began to feel that he really could manage it. He could keep his father's heart pumping. He could make his lungs contract and expand. He could keep him alive from the inside.

And then everything moved. Luke's grasp was shaken loose, and he missed another pump, lost control of his father's lungs altogether.

But then they drew breath on their own.

Luke struggled to open his eyes, still manipulating his father's heart. The armoured form was surrounded by medical droids, and a stretcher lay ready. They'd removed the Sith's helmet, and fitted a breath mask over his mouth and nose, but Vader's eyes were still closed, his face twisted in pain.

The datapad had fallen to the floor.

"Prepare to move the patient," a monotone voice instructed.

Luke was paralyzed. He wanted to help, to move with his father, but just keeping his heart beating was a struggle. He couldn't move. He could only watch as the droids pulled Vader over to the stretcher, and the datapad fell from his hands.

"I'm here," Luke croaked again. He didn't know if he was reassuring his father, or begging the droids to recognize his presence. But then there were arms around him, and he recognized Leia's sleeves as she helped him to his feet, and guided his stumbling feet to the gurney, pushing him down to sit at his father's knees.

"Leia."

She shook her head, and he fell silent obediently, the world blurring before him as she pushed the datapad back into his hands, and he fell back to Vader's heart.


	5. Interlude

There were hands under Luke's arms, lifting him, and he scrambled briefly, before falling still again. He was _exhausted_. He felt cold, and sick, and as if something was horribly wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Where was he? He couldn't remember how he'd got here, and… whose hands were those?

"It's alright," a voice said, and Luke exhaled sharply, now struggling to cooperate.

"What happened?" he asked, trying to open his eyes. "Leia? I… I feel weird…"

"If you ever do that again-." She sounded angry, and she gripped him tighter, trying to nudge him faster, and nearly knocking him over.

"What'd I do?" he begged, before he managed to get his eyes open, and took in the familiar medbay. Then, "Father!"

His gaze fell on the man, and he realized he must have fallen asleep on the edge of the gurney. Vader's helmet had been removed, and a compact breath mask had been affixed over his lower face. He seemed peaceful, but Luke couldn't help throwing himself back to the Force to sense his heartbeat.

Still there.

Steadier, now.

He withdrew, looking at Vader in worry. Some of the new tangle of wires must have represented new aids, stabilizing him when his son had ceased to be able to.

He reached forwards, but Leia held him back. "You're too tired."

He couldn't quite argue that point.

She was leading him away from his father now, and he longed to struggle again, and try to reach the man once more.

She took pity on him, explaining as she turned him away, "They're taking him in for surgery. Unless you want to keep him alive yourself."

Luke gave a weak laugh, and leaned into his friend's grasp at last. "What're you gonna do with me?" he asked, "For making you worry?"

"I'll kill you later," she sighed, lowering Luke to a bed, and pushing him down. "You need to rest."

She turned to leave, and he lunged forwards, grabbing her hand with the last of his strength, "Don't go."

She looked back at him, and he suddenly saw the bags under her eyes. She was as exhausted as he, he suspected. But she was a general, and not known for taking care of herself.

For a moment, he thought she wouldn't stay, but rather rush back to the rest of the Alliance, but then she sighed, and sat down next to him.

"Thank you. After what he did to you, I'd have understood if you didn't come."

She gave him a tiny smile, and finally leaned against the head of the bed with him, her forehead rested against his shoulder. "I didn't do it for him."

He closed his eyes, resting his nose in her hair, and wrapping his arms around her. He heard his father's gurney wheeled out, but didn't have the strength to open his eyes and watch. If Leia'd come to Vader's aid, then the Alliance wouldn't let him die. He'd be safe.

And for now, Luke felt safe and comfortable, his arms wrapped around his friend in the antiseptic quiet of the hospital.


	6. Chapter 5

Luke awoke to a soft scratching. The hospital hummed around him, and Leia's warmth was gone from his side, but he wasn't concerned. His bed had been lowered so he could lie flat, and he felt warm and sleepy still. The scratching seemed almost like another hospital sound, but he forced himself to move, in case it was a rodent, and his movement would startle it off.

The sound stopped, and Luke groaned inwardly, trying to gather the strength to get up, and scare it off properly. Then, something tucked the blankets more tightly around him, and he looked up without a moment's thought.

Vader's bed had been wheeled in next to his, and the older man was seated there, his fingers still raised from comforting his son. His legs were drawn up slightly, and something, a sketchpad, Luke suspected, rested against them.

"Hey," Luke greeted sleepily, trying to sit up.

An invisible pressure kept him still, and he quickly gave up the fight.

"You need to rest," Vader told him, and Luke felt him massaging his mind lightly, trying to brush him off to sleep.

"Stop that," Luke mumbled, swatting at his father's invisible presence, before managing to push himself up. "How're you feeling?"

A thousand questions were pushing at his mind, begging to be asked, but he fought them down for the quiet of the room, the sense of peace. He could be patient, for now, and ask questions at his father's speed.

"Your friends saved me," Vader said, and Luke could feel an ache in his voice. It had probably been a long time since someone had helped him in that way, Luke thought. Not because he held power over them, or had something they wanted, but simply to save a life, because lives were worth saving.

"Yeah," he said, trying to smile. It felt strange to sit across from a galactic ruler, and know that in some ways, his own life was better. Hells, he hadn't given it a second thought to waking up somewhere safe, knowing that he'd be cared for. "What happened?"

Vader fell silent, looking down at his drawing, and Luke struggled to be patient as he put down a few strokes.

"My master… built my life support to have a kill switch. Last night, he attempted to deactivate me."

"He tried to _kill_ you?" Luke asked, horrified. He got to his feet, and stumbled over to his father's bed, unsteady with exhaustion still.

"Luke." Vader reprimanded, but he shifted aside enough for Luke to take a seat next to him, before continuing. "I'm a slave."

He smiled slightly, reaching up to stroke Luke's hair with a battered prosthetic. "You told me you knew that. It's my past, and my destiny."

"That's stupid!"

Luke grasped his father's hand tightly, trying to crush self-worth into him. It was inconceivable that Vader considered himself to be nothing more than a slave. He was a leader! He was Luke's _father_ , and one of the last remaining people who had studied to be a Jedi! He had to care about himself. He just had to.

"It is simply my life," Vader answered. It was like a knife to the gut to realize how little that stung him. Luke wanted him to be _happy_ , to see himself as Luke saw him, as someone worthy of love, and saving. As if in response, Vader frowned slightly, "Although, it seems your friends managed to get my systems running again."

"Probably replaced them," Luke said, looking at his father's chest, and struggling to interpret the mass of scar tissue and wiring. "In a pinch, it's usually easier than trying to find replacement parts."

"Have a lot of experience, do you?" Vader chuckled, his hand moving to his chest, fingers slipping between wires to lay against his skin.

Luke flinched. "Be careful."

Vader laughed again, closing his eyes, and resting his head back. "I am capable of not pulling my aids out, I assure you. I have plenty of practice, little one."

Luke withdrew uncertainly, looking at his father's closed eyes. It was strange how peaceful the warlike man could still look, he thought.

"You should be resting," Vader said, unmoving.

Luke shook his head. "I'm alright. You're the one recovering from major surgery, anyway."

"I am quite accustomed to that," Vader said, but he didn't press the issue.

Luke scooted himself up to sit by his father, leaning against the headboard. He assured himself that he was only humouring him, that he wasn't really _that_ tired. "What were you drawing?" he asked.

Vader raised his head once more, looking down at the sketchbook in his lap. "One of the nurses found me a book," he said, flipping it over to look at it. "It's nice to have a distraction."

"Can I see?" Luke asked, leaning closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the pages as his father moved the book.

Vader laughed, and finally passed the book over. "They're not all of your mother, you know."

"I _know_ ," Luke said, blushing slightly as he opened the book. The first image was a drawing of a lake, an island rising from its centre, adorned with a single, beautiful house. Trying to take as much as he could from the image, Luke leaned back against his father, absently reaching out with the Force to monitor his reactions to the art.

"You could ask," Vader teased. He drew his arm around Luke, and pointed at the building. "It was a cottage your mother owned."

"A _cottage?"_ Luke asked in disbelief. The building was more than large enough to count as a 'house' in his eyes. Hells, some of their bases hadn't been that large.

Vader chuckled, gripping his son close to himself. "You would have been raised there," he told Luke, "Had all gone according to plan."

Luke nodded slightly, turning the page to find what had to be a drawing of the same building. It was a large bedroom, bed tucked safely in one corner, a canopy shadowing it from large windows. There was a workbench, a dresser, and shelves of entertainments. A desk with work scattered across it, and an easel. Gauzy curtains blew in a light breeze, and beams of light fell across the scene. Luke half expected that if he looked closely enough, he would find that his father had detailed the floating dust.

"Padmé wanted to go ahead to prepare your room."

"It's beautiful," Luke murmured, still gazing at it. It was strange how much the image told him without his father needing to speak. Luke wondered if it was because of his father's legendary dislike of speech, or if the clues were unintentional. The light he'd given the room, allowing his son freedom, the paints and tools, hoping for common ground.

"I never know what to do with all the space."

"You've done sketches like this before?" Luke asked, looking up at his father, and suddenly realizing how comfortably he fit under his arm, tucked in his protection.

"Many times," Vader agreed softly. His arm around Luke was still moving slowly, gently rubbing his son's side. Luke wasn't sure if it was protective, or possessive, but he wasn't sure he cared, either. It felt good. It felt good to be held, and know he was wanted.

He turned the next page, and his mother smiled at him again. He automatically smiled back, carefully touching the edge of her lip, as if he could really feel the lines of her smile. For a moment, he felt a flash of another presence, and closed his eyes.

His mom was with him. He didn't know how; if it was Vader, or the drawing, or the Force, or only wishful thinking, but he didn't care. He leaned into his father, and the cool medbay felt like a warm summer's day. He could nearly smell flowers, and feel the brush of his mother's hair as she held him close as well.

"I love you," he whispered aloud. He hoped she could hear him, in the warmth and happiness of the moment, that she was with him in the sunshine and the sound of distant birds.

"I love you, too, Luke."

The voice sent a tremble through him. He immediately scrambled to analyze it, so he could remember every inflection and keep those words with him, but it slipped out like water through his fingers, and he exhaled, trying to enjoy it in the moment. For a few more shining seconds, he half-heard the burble of a creek, and a soft thrum of insects, before the sounds faded back into a leaky faucet and the sounds of medical equipment.

Luke exhaled, relaxing into his father's arm, and appreciating those sounds too. The sounds of his father, not his mother. Outdated medical equipment whirring helplessly as it attempted to calibrate to the newer hardware, and through it all, an unsteady heartbeat. He must have been listening with the Force, as well, he thought, as he heard a whirr of machinery, and his father slowly lifted a hand to caress his hair.

It was a safe setting, too. His father's fingers twirled his hair, cool fingertips brushing his scalp as he lay still. It wasn't just his father who was closely linked to the hospital; he spent his fair share of time there, but it felt nice to be with his father now. Sure, Leia and Han visited him when he had to stay overnight, but his father wouldn't leave him here for a moment…

"There are more pictures," Vader said, gently nudging Luke, as if testing that he was still awake.

For another moment, he lay still, and Vader sighed softly, lowering his arm back around Luke's waist, accepting that he'd drifted off. In the daze of the hospital, and the warmth of his father, Luke considered staying there, and letting his father believe he'd fallen asleep to just enjoy his father's protection, but he finally cracked an eye open, looking back down at the sketchbook, and slowly turning the page.

He felt his father's gaze fall to it as well, and slowly focused enough to see it.

He certainly hadn't finished sleeping off the effort he'd gone to in order to keep his father's heart beating. Soon, he really would fall asleep here, and his father could enjoy hugging a deadweight, or possibly restless Jedi.

"It's me," he mumbled, his voice slurred with sleep. The image was of himself, sitting on a railing in robes that reminded him of Obi-Wan's, and smiling.

"In the Jedi Temple," Vader added, before Luke slumped further into his arms, and he huffed, "Force, child."

There was a clatter, and then a loud crash, and Luke moaned, burying his face in his father, disinterested in dealing with whatever was happening. Then, there was a soft _clunk_ , and he turned away from Vader to find that his father had clipped Luke's bed against his own. Then, his father's arm loosened around him, and Luke found himself sliding partially onto his own bed.

"Be more careful," Vader scolded, "I might have dropped you."

Luke huffed back, entangling himself in his father's arm before speaking. "I thought you didn't want me to be a Jedi."

"If I could trade your current situation for being a Jedi in the old Order, I would do so."

Luke smiled slightly, rolling his eyes half-heartedly, before turning the page again. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep for his father to have drawn this much, and wasn't sure he'd get through it all before he went _back_ to sleep.

"'S…" he squinted, desperately trying to see the page, "Leia?"

"No, child," Vader chuckled, pulling Luke's blankets safely around him again. "Her name was Ahsoka, she's not even _human_."

"Sorta looks like Leia," Luke defended half-heartedly. He wasn't sure what it looked like, he'd been pretty pleased with himself for managing to take away from it that it was a woman, but not his mother.

"She's Togrutan," his father said exasperatedly, and Luke didn't bother to struggle as Vader adjusted his grip on him.

"There's no colour," Luke mumbled. He let his hand slide from the book, closing his eyes. His father didn't seem to be in a hurry to put him down, which was comforting. He wasn't sure he'd be as tired outside of his father's aura and warmth.

"I'd have thought the montrals to be a bit of a giveaway," Vader said fondly, pulling Luke's pillow in against him, before simply wrapping his arms supportively around him, and resting back as well.

"Can never… tell with Leia," Luke said, and he yawned, shifting comfortably. "You can put me down… if you wanna draw some more."

He felt Vader's smile, and for a moment there was a smell of crushed grass and motor oil. His father's scent, in the context of the drawings, he knew without thought.

"For the moment, I am quite happy to hold you."

"Good."


	7. Chapter 7

"Leia!" Luke lunged forwards, grabbing his friend's wrist, and pulling her back into cover, ignoring her indignant snarl. "We can't go out there!"

"We can't stay in here, either," she hissed, pulling her arm free, and looking ready to make another attempt to bolt for the mouth of the cave.

"We agreed we should stay here until help comes!" he argued, jumping to grab her again. But she only raised her arm, and shot a couple of Stormtroopers who'd started to enter the cave.

"That was a week ago," she answered, giving his withdrawn hand a withering look. "We're out of food, and low on water. We have to get out of here."

"At least not _now_ ," he begged, flinching as her blaster kicked again, and a couple more Imperials fell dead.

"Why not? It's not as though they'll let up at night." She fiddled with her blaster, rifling through what remained of their supplies for another clip.

"I just…" his hand slipped from her sleeve as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "I just… have a feeling about it."

Leia finally ducked back into their alcove, out of harm's way, and met his gaze. "I have a feeling about this too, Luke. Something bad is coming if we don't get out of here _soon._ "

"What about Han?" Luke asked, dropping his voice as he flicked his hand briefly towards their prone friend. "He can't move that quickly."

There was a second of silence, before the smuggler gave a groggy, "Hey."

Luke frowned at him, reaching over to squeeze his knee quickly. "He can hardly defend himself against _me._ "

Leia looked down too, as Han clumsily reached up and grasped Luke's hand. It'd been a piece of Leia's work that had got him out of Jabba's palace, an impulsive "plan" that Luke suspected had been spawned mostly of wanting to get Luke away from Vader for a while, or just annoyance that they'd spent time together at all.

And sure, it was good to see him again, but Luke couldn't help wishing that he was either safe or fully conscious. Or, ideally, both.

As it was, he'd had to come and push past the Imperials at the opening of their cave with medical supplies to keep him stable in the hopes that they'd eventually manage to get rid of their pursuers and get him back to the Alliance.

Leia was right. They were running out of time. She and Luke would be able to survive a few days without food, and a couple without water, but Luke was hesitant to believe that Han could last even one. He didn't want to gamble with his friend's life, but Leia's plan was only a more dangerous gamble-

"Just give it one more day."

That was a pretty reasonable request, he felt. They still had plenty of ammo, and Han would almost certainly be able to last. Sure, once they'd slipped past the Empire, they'd have to find themselves a ship, as both of theirs had surely been destroyed, but every second the Empire might be recalled was another chance that they might not have to drag their weak friend through blasterfire.

He was pretty sure they didn't know exactly who had got themselves stuck in a little cave on a planet so backwater that Leia had sent him coordinates, and not a name.

It'd been a pretty genius choice of hiding spot, except that the hiding involved more fighting than he'd have preferred it to.

Leia looked at him long and hard, before Han gave a weak cough, and she looked back down at him. "Fine. Another day." She poked her head back out to pick off a few of the troopers who'd hesitantly started to venture into the cave, and who quickly bolted back out. "Can you take care of him?"

"Sure."

Luke scrambled past her to retrieve a pack, and sit at Han's side.

"Han?" he whispered.

The smuggler barely turned his head, and Luke knew that if he'd been better lit, there'd have been a pallor in his face. Han seemed aware of how bad his condition was, and Luke thought that was probably the worst part of it. He wanted Han to have his swagger, and be arguing alongside Leia that they should try to crash through the Imperial line instead of waiting until he could stand on his own.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he asked gently, smiling reassuringly at Han, though he doubted he'd be able to see.

"Whatever you say, kid," Han muttered.

Luke felt his smile fade, turning into a slight frown as he pulled out a flask of water, and carefully hauled Han's torso into his lap.

"Leia and I are here," he promised, pressing the bottle to Han's lips. "We won't let anything hurt you."

"Don't think… anything could," Han croaked, and water spilled across his chin before Luke could withdraw the flask.

The words almost sounded like bravado, but Luke felt his heart twist in his chest.

"Are you losing sensation?"

"Given I've stopped noticing I'm sleeping on the ground," Han said, struggling clumsily to sit up on his own.

Luke bit his lip. He half wanted to take back what he'd said to Leia, this had clearly progressed beyond his ability to help, and he didn't want to get Han back only to find out that if they'd been a day earlier-

But, no. He _knew_ that trying to leave now would only result in all of them being killed. The Imperials hadn't let up at all, despite their utter lack of success at entering a cave defended by only two people. It seemed almost as if the garrison had grown bored, this far in the middle of nowhere, and were eager to let their amusement last as long as possible, even if it meant additional deaths.

The Alliance wouldn't be coming, either. He'd said he had it under control, and they were busy enough with the Imperials who were breathing down their necks, anyway.

"Heads up," Leia hissed to him, reaching over Han to grab a detonator from the bag, and chucking it towards the mouth of the cave.

"Leia!"

She immediately ducked back, covering her ears, and he instinctively followed suit. There was a bang, and Han groaned pathetically, before Luke cautiously unfolded, peeking back towards the entrance.

The cave was still intact.

Thank the _Force._

"A flash detonator?" he demanded, as Leia sprayed fire into the stunned troopers. "A little more warning would've been _great_."

"I gave you too much already," Leia snapped, scrambling dangerously out of cover to attempt to get the last retreating trooper.

Luke held his breath, clinging to Han, until she returned.

"Please be careful," he begged, carefully letting Han slide back to the ground as he scrambled back to her, attempting to put himself between her and danger.

"If we're getting out of here tomorrow, I want the run to be as clear as possible," she said, already reaching for another flash detonator.

He grabbed her arm.

"So do I! But there's no run if we're _dead,_ Leia!"

"If it's not safe to run tomorrow, you're going to keep us here even longer," she said. "It's never going to be safe, and we don't have time to wait around!"

There was a muffled bang from outside the cave, and Luke winced. Maybe they were finally sending in the big guns, and getting serious about flushing them out.

"Oh, kriff," Leia said, and Luke was nearly flattened as she began desperately cramming their supplies back into the bags. "I think we're out of time."

Luke scrambled after her, trying not to hear Han's confused complaint at his disappearance from his side. "We might be."

She'd be mad with him later, he knew. She'd been right, and he'd put them in further danger, and it was completely reasonable that –

He stopped in the middle of trying to cram Han's thermal blanket back into its pouch.

"What?" Leia asked, looking up.

There was something off. The sound of blasters was still ringing, but it wasn't as if they were shooting, and Han couldn't even lift himself.

"Shh," Luke hissed, dropping both bag and blanket, and scooting towards the open cave.

"Luke!" Leia said, seeming frozen in place. "What are you doing?"

"I just…" He couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe there'd been some sort of wild animal attack, and the Imperials were busy with that. Whatever it was, it was a distraction, but he wanted to know more about it before trying to use it as cover. "My feeling's getting stronger."

She grabbed his arm, "Mine is too!"

"No," Luke said, trying to pull free, "Leia, this is _good,_ I'm almost sure, I-," he cut himself off.

There was the distinct sound of a lightsaber, and for a desperate second, he wanted to dive back into cover and hope that he hadn't been seen, sure that Vader had found them.

Except there was no Vader, anymore. Not in the sense he was thinking.

"Father!"

Leia released his arm as he straightened in excitement.

A moment later, an unfamiliar silhouette broke the light being cast in the entrance of their cave, and Luke scrambled out of their cover. As soon as he was able, he was on his feet, and racing across the uneven floor towards the stranger.

For a second, the man tensed, seeming almost to raise his lightsaber, but the flicker of danger held no malice, and Luke didn't hesitate before throwing his arms around his father's neck.

The lightsaber deactivated, and for a moment, his father gave him a tight one-armed hug, before releasing him back to the floor.

"Not a second's hesitation for a lightsaber, hm?" he asked, his voice still quiet and difficult to make out as he bent close to Luke.

"I'm so glad to see you!" Luke said, turning back towards Leia and Han, walking slowly so his father could keep his balance. He wasn't sure how well his father was adjusting to the changes the Alliance had had to make to his systems. A glance back at him showed that he'd found himself some light armour somewhere, but his bare metal feet skittered on the stone floor, and Luke had a feeling that he wasn't really ready to be back on the battlefield.

"I am glad to see you in once piece, as well."

Luke turned back to his father as he reached the crevice where Han and Leia hid, "I can't believe they let you come find us!"

His father hesitated awkwardly, a few meters away, clipping the lightsaber back to his belt, "No one 'let' me come."

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw Leia hunker down over Han. He realized, suddenly, that they had been sensing the same event. He'd felt his father coming, and she'd… she'd felt the monster who had put them all in this situation. He felt a flash of empathy that threatened to make him fear his father again, and took a step towards her.

"I did not harm your friends."

With the words, he sensed sorrow and pain, and realized suddenly that his father's Force signature was almost unrecognizable. It wasn't what he'd felt at Bespin, or sensed when his father had demanded his presence, but more akin to the crackle of dust and electricity in the garage back on Tatooine. It felt homey, and safe, and Luke felt ashamed of his step back.

"They will find themselves down one ship, and a few weapons," he continued, taking another small step forwards. "Until we return, and they can enjoy the return of their best strategist and their Jedi."

His father's awkwardness, and his clear awareness that he had frightened each of them was uncomfortable, so Luke tried to brush it aside.

"Han's not doing well," he said, gesturing for his father to join them and look the smuggler over. As he took the last few steps up to them, Leia carefully laid Han back on the ground, and resumed packing their things, swinging on her bag, and avoiding his gaze.

Luke helped his father to kneel, and scoot in under the overhang they'd hidden Han under, and watched as he gave him a quick once over.

"He will recover, with medical attention."

"Is it safe to get out of here?" Luke asked, accepting his own bag from Leia. "Where'd you leave your ship?"

"It will take time for the Empire to send new troopers," Anakin said, pulling Han's arm around his shoulders, and wincing. "The ship is close, I suspected there were mobility difficulties."

For another moment, he adjusted Han's arm around his neck, before carefully pulling him back to a wider portion of the cave, and lifting him fully.

Luke glanced back at Leia just in time for her to push past him, heading for the mouth of the cave, and ignoring their savior. He wanted to run after her, and reassure her, but there were no words. He knew some of what Vader had done to her, and there was no excuse, no forgiveness for what he'd done. She was right to be frightened, even if he wished she wasn't.

He caught up with his father, instead. Craning his neck, he got a look at Han's face, now visibly pale in the better light.

"You're sure he'll be alright?"

Anakin's presence swelled to encompass Luke, warm and safe. He knew his father was just wanting to keep him calm, and couldn't further back up his claims that Han would recover, but it almost didn't matter.

His father had sensed he was in danger, and come to his rescue. And despite that his friends had been an obstacle in his path to his son, he hadn't killed them.

"Do they know you're gone?" Luke asked, squinting as he stepped back into the sunlight for the first time in a week.

Anakin chuckled, gently nudging his shoulder to guide him towards the ship. "If they haven't noticed yet, I'm sure they will soon."

Luke smiled slightly, finally managing to make out Leia ahead of him, scrambling over a pile of debris, before vanishing over it.

"Thanks for coming to find us," he said, staying with his father as he headed slowly but more or less steadily for the same pile of rocks.

"I've left you behind for far too long," Anakin answered, freeing one of his arms to steady himself with. "You think that now I'm free of the Emperor, I'd let you die?"

Luke didn't answer, slipping past his father, and offering his hand to help him down the other side. The fact was that he was still trying to pin down who his father was. Sure, he was aligning more with the father Luke had dreamed of as a child, but he was still someone who had been Vader. He was still largely a mystery to Luke. He'd been confident that his father would have tried to protect him if there'd been an attack on the _medbay_ , when they'd been recovering together, but he hadn't had enough faith to even consider that his father might come to save them here.

He stepped into the ship ahead of his father, without really looking at him, and followed as his father carefully laid Han out on a bed, strapping in the crash webbing. Anakin activated the little hovering meddroid, and watched for a few moments as it began its review of Han's state, before turning back to Luke.

"Were you or the princess injured?"

Luke shook his head, looking away from the droid as well. It was probably best to get his father away from him. Han might not have been so cruelly tortured, or forced to watch his planet destroyed, but being around Vader probably wasn't a relaxing situation for him, either.

"I could go for something to eat, though."

Anakin wasn't stupid, Luke knew. He'd know Luke was trying to get him away from Han, but he followed nonetheless. Luke led him to the small galley, and dug around for something edible, before perching on the countertop.

Uncertainly, Anakin poked at the container of food Luke had left open, and Luke watched as he delicately selected the softest item he could find.

"Your friends distrust me," Anakin said. Before Luke could try to think of a way to soften that blow, he shook his head. "I'm not angry, I deserve it. But you…" he paused, tossing the snack, and catching it again. "You ran to me."

Luke blushed, trying to hide behind his own ration bar. "I wasn't expecting a rescue."

"You're my son, I wasn't going to _leave_ you."

"It's just weird, I guess," Luke admitted, focusing on picking a rogue bit of fruit out of his ration bar. "It's been a while since I had a parent."

"And you didn't expect to have one again, I suppose," Anakin said, and Luke tensed slightly as his father stepped nearer. He didn't want to think about it too hard right now. He was just glad to be back on an Alliance ship, and headed home.

"I guess not," he said slowly.

"I hope it's a change you can get used to," Anakin said, laying his hand on Luke's knee.

Luke looked up, startled. "Yeah, I… Yeah… it shouldn't be too hard to get used to."


End file.
